Trapped
If not he better be joking.
"What?" I wiped my tears from the back of my hand. "I can't. Ivan will kill me," I said, hoping he would change his mind.
Instead of replying, he dipped his hand in his pants pocket and pulled out a small zip-in plastic bag that contained some white powdery stuff. "Here," he said, putting it on my palm.
"What's this," I inquired, observing the packet.
"Just add this in his water," he utters nonchalantly. I deliberately bat my lashes in an attempt to understand what Dean had said.